


Mother

by honda_cvic



Series: Retainers [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Bonding, Fire Emblem Fates: Conquest Route, Gen, No spoilers for conquest but some for awakening i guess?, Poisoning, Vomiting, how do i write xander, i love and miss olivia and so does inigo ok, nothing too graphic though, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honda_cvic/pseuds/honda_cvic
Summary: Deep in the woods of Hoshido, Laslow is badly injured and says things he'll come to regret later. Deep in the woods of Hoshido, Crowned Prince Xander hears every word of it whilst kneeling at his retainer's side. Deep in the woods of Hoshido, a secret name escapes from blood-stained lips.





	Mother

“Where’s Laslow?”

Xander had hardly a moment to celebrate the army’s victory over the ninjas who had ambushed them before Peri’s panicked question screeched his post-battle thoughts to a halt. The Crowned Prince of Nohr and his cavalier retainer had gotten separated from the rest of the army in the course of the skirmish, but it was clear now that the fight was over; the woods were silent, save the sound of hooves of allies’ mounts and the calls to one another across the battlefield, ensuring all were safe. Xander and Peri had had little problem dispatching the enemy ninjas that had driven them back into the forest, even while on horseback in a terrain thick with trees. At the time, Laslow had been at their side. Now, he was nowhere in sight.

“He may have regrouped with the others already,” Xander said, though something in his voice clearly wasn’t convincing enough for Peri, who already had her horse galloping back the way they came. The girl’s brightly colored pigtails swung round as she swiveled her head, calling out in her voice like stepping on autumn leaves.

“Laslooooooow! You better not be dead! Laslooow!”

Though far too used to Peri’s light-talk in regards to a subject so dark, hearing his other retainer as the subject of such talk made Xander uneasy, so he followed Peri’s lead and started his horse behind her, searching the area for signs of the man in question.

Peri was the first to spot him.

 _“Hey!”_ was her first response, short and abrupt, and as Xander saw her frantically pull at the reigns of her horse and prepare to dismount, he understood what she meant. And then he saw.

The Prince did not see his retainer first, did not see his head of silver hair nor his bloodstained sword in his hand. First he saw the blood, already soaked and absorbed into the soft brown dirt in which Laslow lay. Next Xander saw his retainer. Next he saw the shuriken impaled into his stomach.

 _Small wound, not very deep,_ Xander concluded quickly and, despite the initial shock of red on brown, there wasn’t all that much blood, either, and certainly not a lethal amount. As he was dismounting his horse and following Peri, who was already on her knees next to Laslow, he was beginning to feel better. _He’ll be fine. This will not be a repeat of the last retainers. It never will be. He’ll get up and—_

“Something’s wrong!”

Once again, Peri’s husky voice cut through Xander’s moment of relief and left him holding on to the pieces of security he had pieced together mere moments ago like a puzzle. In a moment he was at Laslow’s side, shouldering Peri out of the way as she responded with a low growl of disapproval.

Something was very wrong.

Laslow was awake still, breathing erratically, eyes glossy and darting. His fingers twitched, faltering with the grip of his sword that lay beside him. His skin: pale, very pale, sweat-drenched, perhaps a shade greener than it should have been, and from his open blue lips dripped something white, frothy. Xander’s breath hitched in his throat. He had seen this once before.

“Peri, fetch a healer _now_ ,” Xander commanded with so much force behind his voice that it seemed Peri had been blown back onto her feet by his voice alone. “The first one you can find. We need to stop that poison,” and Peri was already running to her horse, looking haunted, her mouth a tight line, as if she had just realized her close friend Death was nearer to her close friend Laslow than she cared for. As Xander redirected his attention back at Laslow, he felt a weak grip at his sleeve. He looked down in alarm and saw Laslow with a shaking arm raised. When their eyes met, Xander saw the last thing he expected to see right about then: a large smile appear out of the blue on his retainer’s sickly face.

“Lord Xander, I’m glad to see you’re safe,” Laslow rasped in what Xander was sure was the man’s best attempt at excitement. It was genuine enough, as was the wide smile on the man’s face, despite the blood and froth that had gathered around his teeth. Xander had to hand it to him; he truly could smile in the worst of situations.

Xander took Laslow’s raised hand firmly, nodding his head. “Yes, my friend, I am safe.” He just needed to keep him conscious, just for now. Once a healer arrived, all would be well, as long as Laslow stayed conscious.

The dancer seemed pleased by this answer, murky eyes relaxing. “She was flanking us,” he started, already searching Xander’s face for approval, “but I cut her down before she could get to you. I- I was trying to make it back, see… I didn’t think—didn’t know this was a…” he shifted the arm at his side in an attempt to gesture to the poisoned shuriken embedded in his bloodied leather armor, but flinched at the act and let out a terrible cough, complete with a spray of blood and white froth. The High Prince gave his retainer’s hand a light squeeze, placing his other hand on the man’s shoulder. He was shaking quite badly now.

“You did well,” Xander offered a small smile in return, along with his signature furrowed brow and steely gaze, “and in return I swear to you that you will not fall here. Peri is fetching a healer as we speak.”

The bloodied smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. Xander instantly knew something had changed, that he must have said the wrong thing, because the look on Laslow’s face went from sleepy pride to feral fear. His body jerked, eyes widened, hollow breath quickened; he tried to pull his hand from his master’s grip, leading to spasms of his arm and back. Before Xander could ask what was wrong in an attempt to keep him calm, to conserve his energy, to keep him conscious, Laslow made a whimpering noise that ended in a cry, “I can’t die here!” He tried to swallow, but he seemed to choke instead and let out another terrible cough, a spray of red and white. A dry sob escaped. “Xander, please, don’t let me die here! I can’t, please!”

Xander’s heart was beating quickly. His retainer had already become delusional; the poison was acting fast. He brought both hands to Laslow’s shoulders, hoping the grip would help to ground him. “Laslow, I promise you that you will not die here. I have seen this before, and we stopped the poison from spreading using a spell. The healer will help, I prom—“

But he was not getting through. Laslow was past the point of no return now, eyes wide and unseeing, spasms in his arms and legs worsening, tears rolling freely down his sweat-gleaned face. “I can’t, I can’t! I promised her! I promised I’d—“ a spasm in his neck forced his head sideways as another loud sob escaped. He coughed, gagged on the blood pooling in his mouth. Xander worried he would retch. “—I’d come home! Promised mother, I _promised_ her, Xander, _please!_ ” The tears were coming easily now. “Gods, oh gods, _mother._ ”

Xander blinked rapidly, trying to think of something, anything, he could say to calm the man down. It was crucial that he stayed conscious, but this outburst would no doubt take its toll. The thought of losing another retainer because of his own shortcomings was unbearable, so Xander tightened his grip on Laslow’s shoulders, swallowing doubt. He had never heard Laslow speak of his mother before. “Listen to me Laslow, you will see her again, but you must stay with me. Can you hear me? I need you to stay with me.”

Too late: the man’s shivering had gotten so intense, so rapid, that it had dissolved into a seizure that had his eyes lolling back into his head, eyelids beginning to droop closed as drool and froth ran down his cheeks. Xander could just hear horses approaching in the distance through the trees, someone yelling, and _hold on, please hold on Laslow, just a bit longer_ , “Laslow, can you hear me? _Laslow!”_

 _“Inigo,”_ was the last thing he rasped, barely above a whisper, spasms ending, muscles relaxing. His eyelids closed, his mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile, perhaps out of familiarity. “My name is Inigo.”

\---

It wasn’t until the next day, well after the sun had set, that Laslow had awoken. Felicia had come to find Xander, who had been training at the time; the maid was sporting bags under her eyes and freshly scraped knees from a fall while running to find Xander, but the grin on her face seemed to make up for it all. He’s awake, she had told the Prince.

Awake was probably an overstatement. This quickly became clear to Xander as he pushed open the flap of the medical tent’s entrance, squinting in the dim light of a few lit lanterns. His retainer was lying in one of the cots with a pillow propping up his head. He looked exhausted, ready to fall back asleep at any moment; his eyes hardly looked any brighter than they had back in the forest, and he still looked just as pale. However, the lack of anything dripping from his mouth was certainly an improvement, and the tremors and shades of green were also non-present. Finally allowing himself to feel relief for the first time since the ambush, Xander took a few more steps into the tent, letting his eyes adjust a bit more to the dimness.

Laslow stirred at his visitor’s arrival, sitting up a bit more and squinting. When he saw who it was, he raised his eyebrows in surprise, which quickly turned to worry. “My lord, I’m sorry, I did not see you.” His worried look was replaced by a sheepish grin and a light chuckle to accompany it. “I, ah, would get up to greet you more formally, but I haven’t quite regained feeling in my legs yet, and I would rather save myself any further embarrassment for the day, if you’ll allow that.”

Xander had to resist rolling his eyes, settling on a sigh and a slight head shake instead. “Glad to see you’re awake, then.” His gaze then turned more serious. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” another flash of another sheepish grin, “like Effie bashed my head into a boulder. Or, no, perhaps not my head. My…” he trailed off, trying to think of an adequate comparison, but he came up short. Instead he looked down at his hands, cupped neatly in his lap. “Tired. I feel very tired,” he settled, backed by a smile without much weight to it.

“You’re lucky to be alive.” Xander was infamous for his bluntness, and Laslow let his eyes dart up to the Crowned Prince before falling back down to his hands. “Elise arrived just as you lost consciousness and managed to stop the poison from spreading further. I’ve been told it was a close call, though. The poison needed to be flushed out of your system completely, and even then it left its mark.”

“That ‘flushing’ part sounds absolutely endearing,” the dancer remarked, grinning widely once again up at his master. “Do tell me it wasn’t fair Lady Elise who led that charge. I don’t think I could ever look her in those beautiful violet eyes again.”

“I was told it was primarily the butlers, and if you ever say such thing about my sister’s eyes again I will personally impale you with another poison shuriken.”

“Noted.”

At this point Xander could have easily taken his leave, after seeing for himself that the danger of losing another retainer had passed. Instead, he found himself sitting down at the end of the cot in order to be more level with Laslow. The two were silent for a moment, as if both wondering what would come next, before Xander asked his question with a distracted gaze. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Mostly,” Laslow responded quickly, brow furrowing. “I remember you and Peri finding me after I had fallen, and I remember your grip on my hand, and I believe my shoulder, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Do you remember saying anything?” The Prince would still not meet his retainer’s eyes.

Laslow blinked a few times, and the familiar feeling of his face reddening reared its ugly head. Laslow hated when his face did that. “Truthfully, milord, no, though I do remember raising my voice at least once. Which,” he added quickly, “was a disgraceful thing to do and completely inappropriate of me, and I do hope you will forgive me if I said anything foolish, or else acted unbefitting of a Nohrian Royal Retainer.”

Xander finally looked back at Laslow, offering a rare amused grin. “I think I can excuse you for that one, my friend. You may blame the poison for that.”

Laslow snorted, pleased at the instant forgiveness. “I’ll definitely be adding that to my arsenal of one-liners. ‘It wasn’t me, it was the poison talking!’”

For what seemed like too many times in one conversation, Xander sighed and shook his head in a disappointed, and perhaps defeated, manner, which Laslow always counted as a personal victory. The dancer’s smile faded slowly, though, and he took a breath, watching his master’s face closely as he asked his question. “What did I say, Lord Xander?”

The High Prince of Nohr was silent for a moment, looking absentmindedly over to the empty cots beside them, before deciding that he owed Laslow a real answer. He looked back to the man in the cot, ensuring that eye contact was being made. “You were afraid you were going to die, actually. I attempted to assure you that a healer was on their way, though I don’t believe you could hear much of what I was saying. You were quite panicked about it.”

Once again, Laslow’s face turned a steady shade of pink, and he tilted his head back to look up at the tent’s ceiling. With a strained laugh, he mused, “A pity, I always fancied myself to be braver in the face of death. Up until now I suppose I had reason to believe that.” He sighed, looking back at Xander and offering up a crooked smile. “What a shame.”

“Well, it was the poison talking, remember?”

Laslow snorted. “Ah, of course, how foolish of me to forget!”

“You mentioned your mother, as well.”

Xander watched Laslow’s face carefully; he saw his retainers eyes widen for a split second, he saw him blink a few quick times, saw his gaze dart to the exit of the tent so quickly that Xander could have been imagining it, and then he looked back to Xander, once again offering a tentative smile, though there was something else backing it now, something melancholy. “Did I?”

“You needn’t talk about it if you do not want to, but I had never heard you speak of her before. I would be lying if I said it did not spark my curiosity,” Xander admitted, frowning.

“Understandable,” Laslow started, and Xander wondered if he would speak any more about it after a brief pause. He continued. “I suppose I mentioned a promise of sorts, yes?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Hm,” Laslow hummed, laughing shortly despite himself. “Well, I apologize for the disappointment, milord, but my mother passed away quite a few years ago. Likely I was thinking of a promise I made to someone _like_ a mother to me, as she is waiting for me to return home after… after all this is over.” He was still smiling, though his eyes were downcast and distant.

Xander nodded stiffly, his mouth a thin line. “My apologies, then.”

The dancer looked quickly back at Xander, surprised. “Ah, no need for apologies, milord! ‘Tis a thing of the past, truly. If anything, I should apologize for subjecting you to such nonsense. Honestly, I—“ he paused, fishing for the right words. His cheeks were reddening again. “I’m so close to that woman back home, I often catch myself thinking of her as my real mother. As much as I would like that, to do so would disrespect and disregard the sacrifices my true mother made for me so long ago. I owe her my life.”

Xander nodded again, and reached out to place a firm hand on Laslow’s shoulder. His retainer blinked at the hand, as if not expecting such a gesture. “Do not apologize for taking a poisoning on my behalf, Laslow, please. I wish only to thank you for yesterday. I am proud to have you as a retainer.”

“Milord—“

“And though it is far too little and far too late, I offer my condolences for your mother, and I give you my word that we will see an end to this war together, so that you may one day return to your homeland and see this woman again.”

This time Laslow allowed for a real smile, placing a hand on Xander’s outstretched arm in a show of comradeship. “For that I thank you, Lord Xander, and I give you my word that I will continue to protect you with my life and fight by your side until this conflict has ended.”

“Good.” Xander removed his hand from his friend’s shoulder and stood, satisfied with the conversation. “I will send Felicia back in—“

“Ah, darling Felicia—“

“—and you will _rest_ ,” Xander shot him a glare, “or else you’ll be in no state to end this war at my side. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, milord.”

“Hm,” Xander nodded, turning to leave. As he reached the tent’s door, he paused. There was a name stuck on his tongue, rising from his throat. _Inigo._ He mulled it over for a second, considering letting it pass through his lips, to say it loudly, to watch how his retainer would react. “Laslow, thank you.”

“Of course, Lord Xander.”

And the Crowned Prince stepped outside into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be part of a series of three stories (one about Laslow, one about Odin, and one about Selena, all bonding with their respective royals) but I didn't know if this was good enough to bother. so if you want more, let me know, i guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> EDIT: Big thanks to those who pushed me to keep going with the series! Leo and Odin's is now up!


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